


true north

by buddhaghost



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JJ (Outer Banks) Needs a Hug, JJ has deep thoughts, JJ is a good friend, John B Needs A Hug, Pre-Canon, and a stable living situation, soft, they both need hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddhaghost/pseuds/buddhaghost
Summary: JJ hears it from his dad first -- the news that Big John is missing. He doesn't even hear the words at first, just registers the sound of his dad shouting from the other room, which manifests as the thrill of fear, of anxiety, of the questioning of oh god what is it now that comes with hearing Luke’s raised voice. But when JJ does put it together, that Big John has been officially declared missing, that is a problem. Because if JJ is hearing it from his dad of all people, that can't mean anything good for John B.---The day that Big John goes missing, John B spirals. JJ helps bring him back together.
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge
Comments: 20
Kudos: 133





	true north

JJ’s at home when he hears it first. His dad yells it from the other room, where he’s tinkering on some project that he tends to pick up during his hours of sobriety, though those come few and far between. JJ’s rummaging around in his room, shifting through piles of clothes in an effort to find something presentable enough to wear to school. He doesn’t even hear Luke at first, just registers the sound of his dad shouting from the other room, which manifests more through the thrill of fear, the anxiety, the questioning of oh god what is it now that comes with hearing Luke’s raised voice, rather than the actual words.

Luke doesn’t look up from the piece of machinery he’s not-so-delicately handling, and JJ is so focused on the sight of his father’s bruised knuckles as he works with a screwdriver that he almost doesn’t register what Luke says for a second time. But the survival mechanisms in his body decide to work in his favor today, thankfully, and JJ catches his father’s words.

“Damn shame about Big John,” Luke is saying, grunting as he works. “Abandoning his son like that.” JJ’s mind short circuits for a second. He knows that Luke and Big John know each other – it’s hard _not_ to know everyone on this island, and dammit does that sound like some line from a Disney song or what? And fuck, JJ’s distracted again. But while Luke and Big John certainly didn’t interact on the daily, there was always an element of being in each other’s business, especially on the Cut. And even though JJ typically keeps his whereabouts vague at best when Luke is coherent enough to even care, it’s not exactly a secret that he spends most of his time with John B, and that the _Chateau_ acts like a second home to him.

“What do you mean?” JJ finally asks. He knows Big John leaves John B a lot, normally just for a couple of days at most but it’s not out of the question for him to be gone for a week or more. He knows John B has been alone at the _Chateau_ for the better part of ten days by this point, maybe more, but what the hell was Luke talking about with the _abandonment_?

Luke gives a particularly violent wrench to the machine, and a rusted metal panel peels off with a clatter, causing JJ to jump involuntarily, his pulse jackrabbiting. Closing his eyes, he breathes in slowly, willing his racing heart to slow down. When he opens them, Luke is looking straight at him, eyes sharper than he’s seen them in a long time. It sends a chill down his spine, but he makes sure not to let Luke see.

“Don’t you know?” Luke says, tone harsh, almost mocking. “From the amount of time you spend with that boy, you’d think you’d have heard. The guys down at the marina said the cops came by looking for Big John. He’s officially declared missing.”

JJ’s mind is whirling, thoughts and emotions flickering by too fast for him to process. It’s always like this when he talks with his dad; his body is always automatically driven into fight-or-flight mode, trying to be a step ahead and anticipate what might happen, to determine if JJ needs to run like hell or get down on his knees and grovel. When his dad acts like this, just talking, he doesn’t know what to do, how to act. He’s prepared for anything from his dad _except_ casual conversation, it seems.

Luke rolls his eyes at his son’s lack of reaction. “Pretty pathetic, if you ask me. What kind of father would do that to his son?” Here, JJ wants to laugh. His life would improve drastically if Luke decided to take an extended vacation out at sea. But instead, he feels his body slowly start to turn to stone as his father stands up and strides towards him, steps purposeful. JJ’s pulse is racing, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run, but he remains rooted to the spot, watching his dad approach with wide eyes.

Luke raises his hand and JJ flinches away, but all Luke does is drop it onto JJ’s shoulder. It feels… wrong, resting there in what is likely meant as a comforting gesture. JJ stares at his father, perplexed. “I will _never_ do that to you, son,” Luke says, voice surprisingly fierce. “You know that, right? Never gonna leave you like that _bitch_ left us.” And there it is; the mention of his mother. Luke never speaks about her, typically content to pretend that he and JJ have been coexisting together from the beginning of JJ’s life, with no female involvement whatsoever. The grip on his shoulder tightens as Luke’s face twists, growing darker, and JJ wants to close his eyes, but he doesn’t, scared of what his father might say if he breaks eye contact. The hand is feeling less like an attempt at comfort, connection, and more like a weight holding him down, slowly drowning him.

"Um, yeah, dad, I know,” JJ manages to say when it becomes clear that Luke was waiting for a response of some kind. “I know you won’t.”

That seems to satisfy Luke, who pats JJ gruffly before turning back to his worktable. “Fuckin coward, that Big John,” he says over his shoulder. “Doesn’t have the balls to raise his kid alone.”

JJ barely even hears that, barely registers anything except for the rushing in his ears and the way that his hands are shaking that always comes with the adrenaline from a one-on-one confrontation with his father. But more than that, he can’t comprehend what Luke just said. Big John declared officially missing? JJ was at the _Chateau_ two nights ago, fucking around with John B and Kie and Pope, playing poker and smoking and taking bets as to who could hit cans off a fallen tree limb from a distance. Big John’s absence was a normal occurrence, and he hadn’t thought anything of it.

But now, he looks harder. Thinks of the deep bags under John B’s eyes, the furrow between his brow when he didn’t think anyone was looking. The disheveled state of the house; again, not unusual, but perhaps more so than usual. And the distant stares; while Pope, Kie and JJ would argue about something ridiculous, John B had been uncharacteristically silent. When JJ had looked over, his friend was staring out at the water, face tense and eyes distant.

"Fuck.” JJ says under his breath, body suddenly jolting into action. If Big John was officially declared missing and JJ had to hear about it from his _dad_ , rather than from John B himself, that couldn’t mean anything good.

Abandoning his search for a decently clean shirt, JJ tears out of the house, giving the curt answer of “out” when his dad asks where the hell he was going, not even caring if there would be repercussions later. All that matters right now is John B.

***

John B’s phone goes straight to voicemail, though JJ continues to hit redial the entire ride from his place to John B’s. His phone is buzzing with texts from Pope and Kiara, but he doesn’t waste a moment to check them. The _Chateau_ is quiet when JJ pulls up on his bike. After a quick check of the house, it’s clear that no one is home, but when JJ runs to check the dock, he can see the HMS Pogue still tied up from when they’d gone out the other day, and the clunky old Volkswagen bus is still parked outside.

"Where the fuck are you, JB?” JJ whispers to himself, sinking down onto the worn couch that he’s honestly probably spent more nights on than in his own bed. The fabric is soft, fraying, and smells like spilled beer and salt and something else, something that JJ’s always associated with the _Chateau_ and John B. Something that smells like home.

He pulls out his phone, tries John B’s number one more time, already expecting it to go to voicemail. But instead, he jerks up when he hears a low buzzing of a phone ringing.

“John B?” He calls out, jumping to his feet. The buzzing is muted but grows louder as JJ approaches John B’s bedroom. Flinging the door open, he looks around wildly, half-expecting to see his friend crawl out from under the bed or reveal that he had been hiding in the closet.

No such luck, though what JJ does find sends a spike of worry through his gut. It’s John B’s phone, face down on the little nightstand by the door. Sighing, JJ picks it up, scanning the numerous missed notifications. Most are missed calls from him, as well as texts from Kiara and Pope demanding John B call them, and a message from John B’s kook boss, Ward Cameron, asking why John B hadn’t shown up for work that day, and a follow up message telling him ‘I heard what happened, don’t worry about coming in this week’.

JJ rolls his eyes and shoves the phone in his pocket along with his own before heading back out. Now, John B isn’t attached to his phone by any means – he’s a terrible texter, and JJ swears that the other boy still doesn’t know how to use FaceTime properly – but he normally doesn’t just _leave_ it. JJ knows for a fact that the main reason that John B carries a phone is in case his dad calls him; since he’s gone so frequently, it wasn’t unusual for John B to get a call from Big John saying he was home, or, more likely, that he was going to be away longer than anticipated. As a child, JJ used to envy John B for having a dad who was away so much – in his eyes, that would’ve been a goddam miracle. But while JJ still hates his fucking dad, he recognizes the difficulties that John B dealt with growing up with a father who was away more often than he was home. At ten years old, a night with no parents sounds amazing, but when the night alone turned into weeks alone, the idea becomes a little less appealing.

Running his hands through his hair, JJ steps out of John B’s room and lets his eyes wander, taking in the state of the house. As usual, there are empty cans littered on almost every surface, dishes piled by the sink, loose papers strewn about on the table. There’s still the pile of cards and poker chips in the corner, from where he, John B, Pope and Kie had played a quick round two nights ago, before abandoning their hands in favor of hitting the boneyard. In fact, the half-eaten pizza that they’d shared is still there too, as well as their empties, and a couple of half-rolled joints that look like they’ve been abandoned. Now, JJ knows John B isn’t prone to cleaning up – maybe once a week he’ll tear through the house like a madman, shoving things into a trash bag while JJ would watch from the couch, occasionally pointing out something the other boy had missed – but the _Chateau_ looks like nobody’s been home for at least a day, if not more.

JJ jolts up. If John B hasn’t been back home since they’d all split from the boneyard, there was only one place JJ could think that he’d be. He doesn’t even hesitate to push the screen door open and bound back to his bike, kicking it to life before roaring out, dust spitting out in his wake.

The ride to the church is a quick one, the cool night air whipping at his face. John B brought him here for the first time a few years ago, when JJ had come over after a particularly hard night and needed to get out of his house and let off some steam. John B had been understanding, and after addressing JJ’s injuries, he’d brought him here, to the abandoned church.

JJ slows to a stop, pushing down the kick stand and taking a moment to stare up at the building. It was clearly once elegant, but age had taken its toll, weathering the wooden panels and chipping the paint. He squinted up at the bell tower but couldn’t see any sign of that someone was there.

“You better be here, John B,” JJ says to himself before squaring his shoulders and heading in, not letting himself think of what he’d do if he _didn’t_ find John B here. The door groaned as he pushed it open, and the floorboards squeaked beneath his feet as he trudged through towards the ladder that he knew led up to the top.

“John B?” JJ calls out, his voice ringing through the empty pews as he climbs. “Honey, it’s me, JJ! I’ve finally returned from war only to find you’d fled the coop.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, palms starting to sweat as he reaches the trap door. There’s no sound coming from above him, no indication of John B, but JJ shoots out a quick prayer, because in a church why the fuck not, before slowly pushing the door open. “Had to come find ya, couldn’t let you face the elements alone.” Still no sound. Taking a deep breath and almost choking on the dust, he pulls himself all the way up, head poking through the door first, before he scrambles all the way in.

“Oh, thank god,” JJ says. His prayers have been answered. Collapsed to the left of the door, laying in a position that cannot be comfortable on this worn wooden floor, is John B. JJ quickly realizes that he’s sleeping, his limbs free from tension that JJ’s grown accustomed to seeing on John B, his face smooth and carefree.

“Ah, Jesus,” JJ says as he crouches over his friend. John B looks, for all intents and purposes, as if he had dropped to the ground in a dead faint, his skin looking sallow and the bags under his eyes a dark bruise color. If it wasn’t for the breath that JJ could hear rasping in and out of John B’s mouth, he’d have half a mind to check for a pulse. He’s still wearing what JJ saw him in two nights ago: the board shorts, ratty converse, and oversized Hawaiian shirt looking grimier than usual, and the edges of the bandana around his wrist are fraying badly, as if John B had been chewing or picking at them. His hair was flat, matted to his forehead, likely sticky with salt and sweat, not that JJ blamed him, because it was damn hot in this bell tower.

At first, JJ doesn’t want to wake him, because honestly, he’s not sure when the last time John B slept was, and it looked like the boy could use it. But as he looks closer, he notices John B’s eyes are moving rapidly beneath his lids, and his fingers are twitching restlessly. Concerned, JJ reaches out a hand to shake his friend awake, but before he even touches John B, the other boys eyes shoot open, and in the next second he’s rolled, scrambling away from JJ hastily. He must have forgotten where he is, because he almost immediately smacks the back of his head on the sloped roof in his scramble to sit up.

"Woah, woah!” JJ exclaims, holding his hands out placatingly while also moving backwards. “Jesus, JB, chill, it’s just me!”

John B’s breaths are coming fast, too short and too quick, but he seems to calm down a little when his eyes finally land on JJ’s. He looks confused for a moment, but then he closes his eyes and covers his face with his hands, groaning.

“JJ, I swear to fucking god, you almost killed me via heart attack,” John B says, his voice muffled by his hands.

“Yeah… sorry bout that,” JJ says, watching his friend warily, like John B was a spooked animal. “I, uh, would’ve told you that I was coming but…” he pulls out John B’s phone from his pocket, tossing it as his friend. “It was kind of hard to get a hold of you.”

John B pulls his hands away from his face and glances down at the phone with disdain, which had landed with a dull thud next to him, before looking back up at JJ. His eyes look tired – not the ‘lights out, no one’s home’ kind of tired, but the ‘I’ve been dealing with this for way too fucking long and can’t catch a fucking break’ kind of tired. JJ would know, he sees that look reflected back at him in the mirror all the time.

“Were you… watching me sleep?” John B says, and JJ respects his attempt at humor, but his voice is thick with barely contained emotion. It’s so clear to JJ that John B is holding on by a goddam thread right now, and jesus does that thought scare him. His friend, who surfs storm swells, who jumps from ridiculous heights into waters of unknown depths, who usually seems so untouchable, so self-assured and confident even in his most reckless moments, now looks like a strong breeze might blow him over as he sits with his knees pulled to his chest, hunched slightly to account for the sloping roof.

"You know me, can’t resist a sleeping face,” JJ jokes, before dropping his eyes to the ground, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the fact that he is likely the first person that John B has talked to since learning his dad was officially declared missing. That, instead of seeking out Kiara or Pope or JJ, John B chose to run here, alone, without bringing his phone, food, water, anything. JJ knows that the church is special to John B because of the connection that it has to his dad, but JJ’s not even sure if John B was planning on ever leaving this place, and the thought scares him, because it means that John B is falling apart right in front of him. John B is falling apart, and JJ has put himself in the position where he must patch him back together. Fuck, JJ can’t even mend _himself_ , bring together all the little shattered pieces that are slowly chipping away more and more. But that’s okay, because he’s come to terms with that, he can live with that, with having to patch himself up again and again, knowing that each time he’s just a little more broken. But he can’t live with John B doing that, with John B fractured and cracking, on the verge of shattering. John B is the sun, eternal light and warmth, and JJ is the mirror, cracked but still able to absorb the light, reflect it back, just a little less strong. That’s how it’s always been, and JJ’s not sure what he’ll do if John B’s light starts to dim.

They’ve been sitting in silence too long, punctuated only by John B’s harsh breathing. JJ can hear his own pulse in his ears, surprisingly steady, as he clears his throat. “So, um… I heard about your dad.” He risks a glance up at John B, who is staring at his hands. He doesn’t react except for a minute tightening of his jaw, his eyes narrowing. Nervously, JJ licks his lips before continuing. “That, uh… that sucks. I’m sorry, man.” JJ wishes he could take the words back almost as immediately as he says them. God dammit, he is not qualified for this. What is one supposed say to their best friend when their father goes missing at sea?

JJ falls silent, cursing himself with every insult that he knows, when John B finally speaks. “The last thing I told him…” he starts, then stops abruptly, looking out the window and dragging a hand across his mouth, shaking his head. JJ watches him for a moment, transfixed by the shining of John B’s eyes, which are wet with unshed tears.

JJ’s seen John B cry only twice. Once was in the fifth grade, when John B had been pulled out of class to talk to some lady who apparently wanted to take him away from Big John and send him to another family. JJ remembers the blank look on John B’s face when he’d come back from the meeting, and the few tears of frustration that he spilled at lunch when he explained it to JJ. The second time was when they were thirteen and John B had surfed right into a coral reef, resulting in massive scratches all over his body. But he’d been most upset about the board, which had been unsalvageable.

So, seeing tears meant this shit was bad. Slowly, JJ moves from where he had been sitting across from John B, crossing the small space and settling down next to him, leaving just a bit of space between them. John B is still staring resolutely out the window, hand still clamped over his mouth, as if he doesn’t even want to hear the words he was about to say.

JJ resolve to sit in silence until John B feels ready to speak, not trusting himself to not say something completely boneheaded. His heart hammers in his chest, so loud that he wouldn’t be surprised if John B could hear it. This isn’t anything like when he talks with his dad, not in the slightest, but the knowledge that John B is going through a crisis right now and JJ has to help somehow is enough to jack his pulse up, because the _responsibility_ , the terror that he’s going to do something wrong, is almost overwhelming. Finally, John B speaks again.

“I knew something was wrong,” John B says, his voice slightly shaky, but no longer heavy with emotion. “Two nights ago, I woke up, and I just knew. And then, when the police came around later that day…” he trails off, and JJ knows what the police had to say.

Suddenly, John B whips around, so he’s facing JJ directly. His face has changed; eyes fiery, expression fierce. “I just don’t believe it. I don’t, I can’t. My dad is not… he’s not some dumb fucking pirate who sailed into the goddam Bermuda Triangle, or something! He wouldn’t… he would never do something stupid enough to risk his life, not when he has me.” John B’s expression shutters, his voice dropping, taking on an almost pleading quality. “He wouldn’t abandon me, he just _wouldn’t_. I know my dad, JJ, you have to believe me.” JJ nods quickly, struck by the desperate look in John B’s eyes. He looks one sentence away from devastation, and it’s suddenly clear to JJ that this is John B’s salvation; denial. And isn’t that too perfect, because denial is JJ’s middle name. Ever since he was a child, he’s denied _everything_ ; every bruise, every broken bone, every black eye. Every question about his father, about his home life, about his grades, about when was the last time he ate.

But while JJ denies, he doesn’t _live_ in denial. And he can’t let John B do that. But maybe John B is right – hell, how _would_ Big John go missing at sea? That shit is like something out of a bedtime story, it doesn’t happen to people these days, not with all the fucking technology and what not. Couldn’t the cops just like put out a radar and detect Big John’s phone or something? JJ doesn’t know how that shit works, but he’s pretty sure you can track someone that way. Either that or all the fucking cop shows on TV lie.

He’s distracted again, and John B’s still looking at him with wide eyes, lips pressed flat as he tugs restlessly at the bandana around his wrist. It scares JJ, the intensity in John B’s gaze, the way that JJ gets the sense that what he says has the chance to make or break John B. And lord help him, he is _not_ going to be responsible for breaking John B more than the world already has.

JJ reaches out and grabs John B’s hand, the one fidgeting with the bandana. His fingers are trembling, and JJ smooths them between his palms as he meets John B’s gaze. “I believe you, John B,” he says, and the reaction is instantaneous. John B’s eyes close and he exhales in relief, and JJ suddenly understands that while Big John missing scares John B, the idea that nobody would believe him, would support him, scared him more. A sudden, fierce, feeling of protection, or devotion, runs through JJ, and he tightens his grip on John B’s hand. “You’re not alone in this,” he says, surprising himself with the strength and conviction in his voice. “You have me, you have Kie, you have Pope, and we’re never gonna leave you. We’re by your side, no matter what. Even if it means we go out and find Big John and drag him home ourselves.” Even as he says it, he’s struck with the realization that yes, JJ would do that if John B asked. He would do anything, if it means he can be by John B’s side, basking in the light that John B seems to exude.

John B opens his eyes, which are still shiny with unshed tears, and smiles, small but genuine. He’s not shattering before JJ’s eyes; he’s building back up, repairing his cracks. It won’t be perfect, but it will be enough, and all JJ can do is marvel at John B’s resilience. Both he and JJ had been dealt a shitty, shitty hand, but they roll with the punches. That’s what drew JJ to John B in the first place; an early inclination that this boy was someone who could pick himself up and put himself back together in ways JJ could only dream of. Even from a young age, it was clear that John B was someone who always got up after being knocked down. No mater what. And JJ needed that strength, needed to see someone else who could do it, so he could try to do it himself.

Suddenly, John B twists his hand in JJ’s grip and pulls the other boy to him. JJ grunts as they collide but relaxes when John B’s arms wrap around him. He brings his arms up as well, digging his fingers into the back of John B’s hair and holding him as John B clutches at the back of his shirt. “Thanks for coming to find me, JJ,” he says, voice soft. JJ only nods, unable to speak as John B quietly shakes in his arms. He just tightens his grip, guiding John B’s head so that it rests on his shoulder as he shifts into a more comfortable position.

They sit for a while, until John B’s shoulders stop shaking and his breathing becomes low and even, and JJ realizes that his friend has fallen asleep in his arms, like a goddam Disney princess. But rather than shake him awake, like JJ would do any other time, he just sighs and leans back against the sloped ceiling. He wonders what John B was going to say, before he cut himself off, about the last thing he’d said to Big John. Judging by his reaction, it wasn’t something John B was proud of, and JJ finds himself irrationally angry at Big John, because how _dare_ he leave without even telling John B? Unless he really is missing at sea, stranding on some board in the middle of the Atlantic, catching fish and avoiding sharks and all that jazz, there would have to be some way for Big John to contact someone… right?

It’s hard to say, but JJ isn’t sure if he can ever forgive Big John for this. Now, both of John B’s parents have abandoned him, and JJ knows that while John B’s relationship with his dad was rocky at times, it was rooted in love. When they were younger, JJ was sure that John B would follow Big John to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took for his dad to spend more time with him, to give him more attention than the fruitless treasure hunts he always seemed to be on. But now, JJ gets it, because that’s how he feels about John B.

“I’ll always come find you,” JJ says, even though John B can’t hear him. But it’s true. JJ may be a mirror, may be cracked and fractured and impossible to restore to his original condition, but he’s also a compass, and John B is a goddam magnet, has been since they became best friends at seven years old, when John B shared his Ring Ding with JJ at lunch. Since he opens his door to JJ no matter the time or day when JJ needs him, since he goes with JJ on whatever half-baked plan for the day he has, since he learned how to best treat concussions when they were fourteen and JJ couldn’t even open his eyes without it hurting. John B has always been there for JJ, and JJ will always be there for John B. Because JJ is a compass, and he will always point to John B as his true north.

**Author's Note:**

> hmmmm so this is another story where kie and pope were meant to show up but again that didn't happen. i just can't get enough of the jj & john b bromance :')
> 
> thank you for reading! please leave a comment or a kudo if you enjoyed!:)


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